


waste of my time

by greenskies_greenclouds



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, Sooyoung's actually just mentioned, brokenhearted!chuu, but bestfriend!lip is there for her, jinsol's here too, this is my first time writing on this site pls go easy on me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenskies_greenclouds/pseuds/greenskies_greenclouds
Summary: sooyoung did something asshole-ish. jiwoo's heart is in pieces. and jungeun's good with being the bestfriend.or sooyoung cheated, jiwoo's drunk & jungeun's still the bestfriend.this isn't angst, i promise...i hope it isn't.
Relationships: Ha Sooyoung | Yves & Kim Jiwoo | Chuu, Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Kim Jiwoo | Chuu, Kim Jiwoo | Chuu & Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Kudos: 28





	waste of my time

A breakup in the eyes of a friend. Babysitting, in other words.

That’s what it is for me right now. It’s true that I do have a liking for drinking. I can’t deny the rumours about my history with alcohol, hangovers and drunkenness that got out of hand. And yet I can’t help but to breathe out a sigh as the urge to grab the shot glass from her flimsy hold comes over me.

“We should go home.” I say again. 

Probably the third time now since she started emptying the fourth bottle—which was now only half-full. I wonder if the frown on my face showed my worry. The last time we went out she couldn't even get to the second round. She just decided to sleep next to her girlfriend—right, ex now.

She let out a throaty chuckle, way too different from the cheery, bubbly laugh we were used to, then shoved a shot glass filled to the brim, almost overflowing, to me.

I took it, lifted it from the glass table, and granted her a quick toast—she wouldn't let me put down the glass without it—and clinked our glasses, before swallowing. She laughs again. Still not quite the same. 

“You say that but you don’t stop taking shots.” 

I shoot her a look, rolling my eyes when she just gives me another shrug, sporting a smirk that makes her look stupid, what with her eyes getting droopy like that. 

“I’m not drunk.” I start to say. Steady, sober. Eyes fixated on her head, slightly bobbing up and down. “You, on the other hand, are very much drunk.” I try to reason out as I watch her eyelids droop and peel again as a foolish grin takes its place on her drowsy face, only proving my point. 

Then she juts her lower lip outward, cupping her flushed cheeks while her elbows leaned on the table for support. 

“That’s what we came here for, though.” She scoffs, sounding more of a snort, raking her free hand through her now messy hair. Jiwoo has always been mindful of her fringe. To just comb her way through her hair is not just uncharacteristic of her but also worrying. "To drink my sorrows away!” She continues—declares—with a boxy grin, raising her glass, spilling over, into the air. But in my eyes, her lips are forcing themselves to turn up. She looks at me, beaming still, waiting for me to join her toast. I do, I raise my glass next to hers and down it, but I speak again. 

“But Jiwoo, that’s not what you’re doing.” She just stares at me dumbly, a question mark hovering above her head. “You’re drinking yourself to death.” 

She smiles, the crescents in her eyes not quite bringing the same light it usually did. She smiles still, only sadder now. I tore my eyes from her face and turned my attention elsewhere, feeling my chest constrict painfully at the sight. A sad Jiwoo just doesn't feel right. _Damn you, Ha Sooyoung._

“Jungie?” I hum, voice lilted in question. "Am I ugly?" 

This is where I had to stop pretending to be interested in the band playing a song from a distance because _what the fuck even is that question?_

"No!" I yelled and sat back down when I caught myself. Thankfully, no one else in the vicinity was paying attention, either too engrossed in their own drunken gossip or mini make-out sessions.

Jiwoo didn't react much, either. Normally, she'd start teasing me now, talking about how adorable she was that I couldn't even bear the thought of anyone calling her anything opposite of lovable. It was true, though, but I'd never admit that to her.

"No, you're not. Have you even seen people literally lining up to help with your _four_ books?" I huffed. _Did Sooyoung call her that? Where the fuck does that jerk live again?_

I was just about to pull out my phone to ask Haseul when she spoke again. 

"Then why? Why did she..." She swallowed, hesitating. It's hard to say it out loud, to confirm that it really happened. "Why did she do that? What did I do wrong?"

She asked, pouring another shot for me and herself, full to the brim. She doesn’t drink it right away. She plays with the small glass just a bit, spinning it slowly around her small fingers, resting on a part of her palm. I fill a glass with water, warm, not cold enough, then slid it to her side of the table. 

I thought back to the time when I came over Jiwoo's flat to see her and Sooyoung chilling on the couch. Sooyoung, _the bastard_ , got herself drunk to the point of passing out the night before and Jiwoo, ever loving person she was, put off all of her studying plan to take care of her. And they had a big fight before that.

I suppress the urge to scoff.

“You never did anything that deserved what she did to you.” I tell her. I'd yell if it doesn't get to her. “If anything, you have every right to be mad at her.” I grabbed her shot glass from her hand and drank her shot and mine in one go.

There’s something in alcohol that even when it seemed to almost pierce a hole through my throat, however strong it is that it makes my eyes shut tight, makes me wanting for more. More for the taste, more for the feeling, or more for the lack of it—I don’t really have any idea which reason I drink for.

“I’m not angry, Jungie.” She tells me, gently pushing aside the glass of water and pouring herself another shot. She brought it to her lips, savored the pungent taste, and then smiled bitterly, looking into my eyes.

_Why does that look pain me so much?_

“I’m hurt.”

I've never felt such an overwhelming need to beat the shit out of someone. 

* * *

“Is she drunk?”

I was struggling with the key when our neighbor asked me. A classmate, I recognize, from my biology class. _Jinsok? Jiwol? Ah, Jinsol._ She's a friend of Jiwoo's. She often told me about her during phone calls when I still haven't moved into the city.

_"She's a genius, Jungeun-ah!"_

_"Jiwoo, she just corrected your own misspelled name."_

_"Your point?"_

Jung Jinsol.

Close enough to know about Jiwoo's recent breakup but not close enough to watch her drown in it. I shook my head, pushing the key into our apartment’s doorknob. The neighbor falls silent but I can almost touch the words that she wants to say. I wait for him anyway, the dampness of the plastic bag I’m holding sending shivers to my spine. The ugly Christmas sweater I changed into a few minutes ago did its job to hide the goosebumps that rose on my skin.

“I hope she doesn’t keep on drinking.” 

I hope so, too, I almost say. I give her a nod just as I was about to turn the handle. 

“I’ve seen her once, a few years ago, trying to move on by the same method.” I wait again when she paused. Then she turned her attention to her sneakers. “You’re wasting your time, Jungeun.” 

I stared at her until she felt uncomfortable. She starts to shift her weight from one foot to the other. 

“I know.” The look on her face crumbles, as if it wasn’t the answer she was expecting. “Goodnight, Jinsol.” Then I close the door, not bothering to take one last look at her face. 

Walking into the living room, I knew that the image of Jiwoo's figure sprawled onto the sofa, lying on her stomach while her head hung on the sofa’s armrest would be burned into my mind. If my mood wasn't dampened by that conversation with Jinsol earlier, I would've taken the opportunity to take another blackmail picture. 

The glass of water, cold, that I left for her to drink before I left for the convenience store is now empty. It was quite the struggle to wake her up and get her to down the contents of the glass with her complaining that the room’s too bright, she feels too hot and the water’s too cold. 

“Jiwoo?” I called out to her, walking to the kitchen to get another glass and fill it with water. Just cool, this time. And a spoon. Her reply comes out as a muffled grunt, a question of what more do I want from her. _A bit of cooperation would be nice_ , I almost say.

“I have ice cream.” Her head jerks up into action, ignoring the spinning of the world in her eyes. 

“Flavor?” She asks, the sign of life and colour in her voice making the room seem just a bit brighter than before. 

I sat next to her after she adjusted in her seat, curling her leg under the other. I pulled out the hangover pills from the bag and her face contorts into disgust. There’s a groan and a protest that doesn’t succeed to come out into the world as I spoke. 

“You’ll know once you get out of those clothes and if and only if you promise to drink this later.” 

She stared at me, mouth opening and closing as if trying to come up with an excuse but accepted the condition anyway and reluctantly stood up then dawdled to her room.

I was left with the ice cream and the box of teabags on the table. I took my time taking off my coat and sweater, acknowledging the fact that there’s nothing else to do than wait for her to get finished.

I only hear the water gushing and splashing and closet doors opening and closing. And nothing else. 

It's too quiet. I don't like it.

When she came back, a few strands of her baby hair were sticking on the sides of her face, visibly damp. She wore my yellow drawstring pajamas, the one I’ve been looking for a month ago. I don’t make a comment about it. It makes her look alive and that was better. 

I only watch as she unceremoniously takes off the lid of the one gallon ice cream. 

“You’re the best, Jungeun-ah.” 

She's smiling and I decide that I like this version of Jiwoo better. _Fuck Sooyoung_. I flash her a grin and welcome the heat of pride that spreads within me when the smile on her face went wider.

I nod, shake my head and make short remarks to the jokes and stories she began to tell me as soon as she started wolfing down the dessert. 

There’s a burst of warmth in me as I notice the life and the sun in her eyes, something that had been missing for a while now. 

A waste of my time. I scoff silently, remembering what our neighbor had said to me, as I lock my gaze on her talking animatedly about something funny. I smile.

Everything about her screams, “Waste it on me.” 

And I will. 


End file.
